Feral
by Regicidal
Summary: Alyy Jay Collins was not your average witch.


Alyy Jay Collins was not your average witch.

Though she strode down the Hogwarts corridors with confidence in her stride and a thinly veiled arrogance gleaning from every move she made - no different from any other student - Collins was hiding something, a secret that was ultimately the bane of her existence. It took a lot of nerve and effort to keep that secret, and a lot of lies, stories made up on the spot, spontaneous tales all to cover her totally unscheduled, surreptitious disappearances. Not many people had noticed the frequent days when Collins would not be seated at the desk next to them, or would not be occupying a place at the Gryffindor house table, and those who _had _noticed knew better than to get involved with other peoples business. In the wizard world, meddling in someone else's affairs could have deep consequences.

Consequences they were.

Brett Dell Gavin was an inquisitive boy. Seventeen years old and in the same house as Alyy, he always seemed to have one ear cocked for the latest gossip - all the student scandals, the hushed rumors, the revelations about who was friend and who was foe and who had snogged who in what room and when. Curious as he was, though, the boy was also very clever and attentive; he had the sharp, cunning eyes of a fox and never seemed to miss any singular detail. One day, sitting in History of Magic, his head resting against the cool surface of the desk, Brett suddenly realized a detail he'd somehow missed; Alyy Jay Collins was missing from class. Perhaps his absentmindedness was due to the droning, tedious voice of Professor Binns, or the hot sunlight streaming through the windows that seemed to befuddle his mind, but he was more than eager to find out where his classmate had disappeared to.

Despite his insistent asking around and repeatedly pestering Collins closest friends - that is, until one of them lost her temper and hexed Brett into a goldfish - Brett gathered no information of the girls whereabouts. Each class, he found himself staring dreamily out the window, his eyes lazing over the green grounds below as he considered the possibilities. Maybe she was ill and confided to the hospital wing - but no, then her friends would surely be visiting her, and he'd seen no sign of them hurrying up the corridors that led to the wing. Perhaps it was a personal issue - the death of a family member or friend - and she'd been temporarily dismissed from Hogwarts. None of these situations, though, seemed likely, as Collins had seemed in perfectly right state before she so mysteriously disappeared. Though he'd never been very fond of the girl, now that Brett was on a case, he wanted nothing more than to find a solution, and he found himself running his hands through his hair in frustration.

One night, the nagging sense of frustration grew too heavy for Brett to bare; not caring that he was risking trouble, Brett crept out of his bed and down the spiral staircase into the Gryffindor common room. It was late at night and all students had gone up to bed; only the fire flickering dimly in the grate gave him any comfort. For a while, he sunk down into one of the plush armchairs, staring dimly and unalert into the flames. Then, very suddenly, he stood up, pushed open the portrait guarding the room, and strode down into the dark corridors beyond. He'd go for a walk across the grounds; some fresh air would surely calm his mind.

As he pushed open the front door to the castle, Brett was assaulted by a jet of icy wind, and he shivered as the light of the cold, full moon bore down on him. Its silvery light ripped a path across the green grass, making everything look shiny and chrome and artificial. Almost in a trance, Brett followed the path of cold moonlight across the grounds. Were he not such a rational boy, Brett would have thought the light was almost_ leading_ him somewhere - but no, that was impossible.

Oblivious to where his legs were taking him, Brett jumped back in alarm when he realized he'd reached the Whomping Willow. Its branches, usually thrashing and writhing wildly at any passerby who came too close, were eerily still, and Brett gazed at the supernatural tree in trepidation as he waited for it to spring to life. No such thing happened, though, and Brett's muscles - rigid as he prepared to leap out of the way - slowly began to untense and relax. Still eyeing the tree with weariness and mistrust, he moved closer and closer, until he was so close he could stretch out one arm and touch the tree's trunk. Still, the Whomping Willow kept still.

Brett was overcome with that hauntingly familiar sense of intense curiosity, and he took another step into the tree's grasp. His instinct was screaming with every step, warning him to go back, but Brett ignored the sensation and ran his hands along the tree, trying to make out what was turning the tree so serene. He had the dark, anticipated feeling that he was stepping right into a predators grasp, but the prospect of knowing what the bloody hell was going on was much more promising - heck, he'd almost even forgotten about Alyy and how she'd disappeared. Suddenly, though, the ground below him seemed to vanish; for one heart stopping moment, Brett lingered in midair, and then his feet plunged downward and he was enveloped in darkness. He tried to yell, but all that came out was a low grunt as his body slammed against a slanted dirt tunnel.

**"Lumos!"** Brett hissed, trying to rise unsteadily to his feet but only falling back onto his rear and sliding ungracefully down onto more even ground. A beam of blue light erupted from the tip of his wand, and he brandished it frantically over his head, trying to make out where he was or what had happened. He slowly retraced his steps, digging his feet hard into the ground to keep from slipping on the downwards slope, but as he reached the place he tumbled down from, he found only a closed, wooden platform. He dug his fingers hard into the space between the wood and dirt, trying to prise the little trapdoor open, but it didn't budge; from what Brett could tell, the wood was sealed shut and would only open from the outside. Cursing, Brett looked back out in front of him. Well, there was only one way to go now.

Somewhat uneasily despite his quickly mounting curiosity, Brett followed the dirt corridor deep down into the earth. His feet made no sound as they padded on the soft dirt, and the silence was heavy, stifling even. The light from his wand flickered and sputtered the further down he went, casting eerie shadows on the earthen walls, and Brett couldn't help his whimper of fear as he thought about all that separated him from the sky and grounds and castle above. Why had he ever decided to go for a walk?

Suddenly, Brett was aware of a dim, golden light spilling out in front of him. He quickened his pace, eager to escape from this earthy prison, and as the light grew larger and enveloped a larger portion of the tunnel, Brett extinguished the light from his wand. Stowing his wand inside his robes, Brett felt excitement and relief fill him as a wooden door loomed out of the darkness. The moment he reached the door, he slammed his palms into it and pushed it open; several moldy boards creaked behind the force of his hands. When he saw where he was, however, Brett's jaw dropped.

He was in a place he'd never been to or heard of before - and that was saying something, seeing how Brett always seemed to know what was what and where was where. He was in what looked like an old house, so old it was in a state of ruin. The walls were old, moldy boards, the ghastly yellow paint peeling off of them in great curls. The floorboards were perched precariously and creaky, and Brett walked across them with great caution in case one broke beneath his weight. The few pieces of furniture that were scattered across the room were shredded with what looked suspiciously like claw marks, and the old, lacy curtains were motheaten beyond recognition. Most forlorn of all, though, was the crimson spatters that littered the ground...some of which looked suspiciously glutinous and fresh.

Suddenly, a low whimper jarred Brett out of his thoughts. He whirled around and could not stifle his gasp of mingled surprise and alarm. Alyy, the girl he'd sought after for countless days now, was crouched on one of the old, cracked pieces of furniture. Her face was buried in her voluminous red hair, her body shaking with barely suppressed sobs. She was in a right state, with her robes torn and several gashes slashed across her arms and face, all oozing blood. Why she was crying or what she was doing here, Brett had no idea, but he instantly moved forward to console her. Little did he know how major of a mistake this decision was...so major it would be fatal.

Just as he reached the footrest of the bed she was perched on, Alyy went ominously still. Brett froze, paralyzed by an inexplicable feeling of horror, but he was unable to back away, even as every nerve shrieked at him to do so. He watched, eyes widening with each passing second, as Alyy slowly raised her face from her mess of wild auburn hair. Her face, usually so gentle or twisted into a laugh as she strode between classes with her group of friends, was oddly slack, as if she had no idea where she was or what she was doing. Then, she went rigid, every muscle tensing as tight as a vice.

A long, silvery ray of moonlight had penetrated the dusty, rotting windowpanes and fluttering old curtains to slant right atop Alyy's position on the bed. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream, her hands coming up to clench in fists against her skull. For a moment, she looked like she would faint; then Brett opened his mouth in a strangled scream of his own. Alyy was _transforming_; her frizzy red hair was shrinking away into coarse brown fur, her face was elongating in a muzzle filled with cracked and yellowed fangs, her limbs were shifting into four sinewy legs. He found his legs churning beneath him wildly, his mind commanding him to run, but Brett was frozen with fear, and he fell hard onto his chest. As he struggled for breath, Alyy completed the transformation; in the place where a normal girl had been moments before rested a werewolf, its amber eyes smoldering and feral. With slow, fluid movements, the werewolf arched its neck and raised its head high to the skies, letting out a pitched, bone chilling howl that seemed to reverberate around the small room.

Brett was staring in horror. He was still lying helplessly on the ground, and now he was totally unarmed; when he'd fallen, his wand had skidded from his robes and tumbled down a crack in the floorboards. His mind was swirling with disbelief - of all things, a werewolf. Alyy Jay Collins had always been startlingly normal, minus that fiery temper she always sported towards everyone, but normal all the same, and now he was come to find out she was one of the most feared, outcasted supernatural creatures around. Brett didn't know what to think as the wolf tilted its head and cocked one of its cold, beady eyes on him, but icy claws of fear squeezed his chest tight and he shrunk back against the ground, trying to make himself not look like a threat.

The wolf didn't seem to notice his attempts; it peeled its lips back in a snarl, ropes of yellow saliva stringing down from its narrow muzzle as it pounced off the bed and landed gracefully on the ground. Brett let out a low whimper and scrambled backwards, only to slam against the opposite wall. Alyy let out a short, laugh-like bark, as if amused by his attempts to escape; then, her head lowered menacingly, she crept closer to the cowering boy. Somewhere, deep inside her wild, animal mind, a tiny part of her was screaming, the still rational part of her demanding she let this helpless creature go. He was only a boy - and a fellow student, at that. But the much larger part of her, the wolf side that had total control, couldn't have cared less if this boy was the Prime Minister himself. Now, he was just an opportunity, just another piece of _prey._

Brett's breaths came in short, labored gasps as the wolf prowled closer and closer, and he stifled a shriek as Alyy pressed her muzzle against his face. For a moment she remained that way, her tongue swiping pleasurably over her huge muzzle as she watched the fear sparking in Brett's eyes; then, she pulled away and stared beadily at the creature crouched before her. Brett was shivering violently, his eyes wide and fearful, and the sight of such helplessness sparked a deep, urgent need in Alyy; without thinking or waiting, she lunged for her prey.

Brett let out a loud, grating scream as fangs clamped shut over his wrist. Excruciating, electrifying pain lanced up his arm, and every bone in his body was jarred as a sound like a gunshot cut the air; Brett's wrist was undoubtedly broken. Hot, salty blood was flowing down his arm in thick rivulets, and the wolf eagerly pulled away to lap at the crimson stream rolling steadily down his flesh. Alyy shivered as she felt his heart pulsating beneath the tender skin; such fragile creatures they were, humans. She didn't even notice as Brett used his free hand to punch ruthlessly at her muzzle, trying in vain to draw the wolf away.

Now positively crazed with bloodlust and the prospect of a kill, of _meat, _Alyy lunged forward a second time, this time clamping her fangs shut over one of his hips and ripping the boy away from his shelter by the wall. The boy's screams meant nothing to the wolf as she tossed him across the vicinity - blood was coating his flesh, his shrieks were musical, the hot, steamy smell of flesh had pervaded the air. The wolf lunged repeatedly, each time digging her fangs ruthlessly into her prey, playing with the dumb boy until his yells eventually died into silence. He lay sprawled on the ground, eyes glazed over in shock, covered in blood as his breaths came rapidly and short. Now that he'd stop fighting, playing with her captive had lost some of its appeal; Alyy decided it was time to go in for the kill.

Prowling slowly towards Brett, his face and body now made unidentifiable by the mangled flesh and scarlet mask, Alyy looked down at his tattered, helpless face, and a cruel satisfaction filled her deep inside. She swiped her tongue once across her jaws, anticipating the wonderful meal that awaited her.

Then, the wolf's muzzle plunged downward and a single scream filled the air before all faded into silence.


End file.
